


No Secrets in the White House

by fraufi666



Category: Political RPF - US 20th c.
Genre: American Presidents, Animal experiments, Authority Figures, Crack, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Nudity, POV Animal, Republican, Romance, Special devices, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 07:51:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4383479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fraufi666/pseuds/fraufi666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard Nixon finds another way of recording his conversations: through the minds of his dogs. But after following through with what seemed to be such a clever scheme, the president quickly learns that this may not be as secretive as he thought. Upon discovering that his secrets may be revealed in another way, will this threaten his presidency?</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Secrets in the White House

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is a historical AU. Although I have used historical figures and some references based from real events, (e.g Vietnam War, Nixon's presidency) this is entirely a work of fiction. All romantic encounters, events and insinuations are from my imagination. I mean no disrespect to any of the people depicted. I am also in no way politically biased. This entire story is written from the perspective of one of Nixon’s dogs, King Timahoe. It is told entirely in first person tense, a style that I have not really explored with in much of my work. Yet I felt that such a style suited this sort of story best.

"Do you think that this is a good idea?"

 Our owner…I mean, the President of the United States had asked this as we sat in our cages, watching him from a distance. A man with a white coat was nodding eagerly. I recall that he was the one who had handled us a little too roughly when we had first arrived into this dank, poorly lit room. Those humans have no idea how hard it is for us. 

 "Of course, Mr President." The veterinarian replied, standing up straight in his white coat, trying to level himself with the president "This is exactly what you need…what America needs! Do you remember how the Nazis had trained their dogs to understand human speech? Well this serum that I had used to inject into them enables them to listen in on the conversations that happen in the White House. You wouldn't even have to bother using those tapes anymore. Is this not what you wanted?"

 Nixon gave a nervous chuckle before lowering his voice in case there was someone else in the room, "Of course. But what I am concerned about is whether these dogs can well, you know…blab our secrets to the press."

 The veterinarian laughed, and it seemed like Nixon looked slightly angry, although he had managed to control himself. "This serum is not enough to actually teach them to communicate in human speech, so you do not have to worry about the press getting hold of your _precious_ secrets." He was mocking him, of course. In fact, now that I think of it, our president always gets mocked…. is that the word you humans use? 

 There were beads of sweat on Nixon's brow "Then…how can we get the information that the dogs record?" The president asked, running his hand through his hair anxiously "They don't…er... write in English with their paws, do they?"

 There was another loud laugh from the veterinarian "If the dogs were really that clever, then they would know how to escape from these cages. But they're animals, after all. They may know what we are saying but they can't exactly do anything can they?" 

 I was really starting to dislike this man. It was as if he had spoken of us like we were lesser beings. Even our owner had not treated us this low. I tried to voice my disgust, but of course it was all just a bark. The imbecile would have no idea that I was telling him that he should not underestimate us. 

 In response to the reaction, the veterinarian gave an idiotic grin before turning back to Nixon. "King Timahoe, is it? You give your dogs such interesting names. But as I was saying, there is an apparatus that you can connect to your dogs, which will actually transcribe everything, that has been recorded by them. I will send it over to the White House sometime next week."

 Nixon shook his head quickly "No, that is not a good idea. Congress could get hold of it somehow. No. I will get one of my men to come over and collect it. Haldeman should do it." 

 "Very well." The veterinarian responded, still with that stupid grin on his face. How much I had wanted to bite his leg. It was as if everything that he had said was a joke, yet the president looked so nervous and so willing to listen to everything he said. I really distrusted this man now. 

 

 Our owner took us back to the White House. Thankfully we were not confined in those cages any longer. He was sitting at a desk, looking stressed as most humans do, now that I think about it, when they do sit at a desk. He was reading through some pieces of paper, looking really tired. With his drooping jowls, he reminded me of a bulldog I had once met on one of my walks outside the White House. 

 Suddenly, there was a loud, disconcerting ringing sound. 

 Nixon was suddenly up and about and quickly picked up the phone. 

 "Hey…Henry? You wouldn't believe what I've got here. It's fantastic! I can't disclose it over the line. Just come over to the Oval Office right away." 

 The tiredness in his face completely cleared up. In fact, our owner looked rather young, almost boyish as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. Nixon smiled to himself and afterwards slammed the headset on the phone before turning back to his work. After what had seemed like several minutes, there was a knock on the door. 

 "Come in!" Nixon commanded. 

 A short, bespectacled man in a suit emerged. The smile had widened when Nixon saw him. 

 "How's my Jew-boy today? Now look, Henry. I now have the best way to record everything without the need of worrying about information being leaked. It's the newest technology!" 

 Henry Kissinger looked puzzled. "I am not quite sure if I follow, Mr President…" 

 The president slapped the National Security Advisor on the shoulder "Come on, Henry! You must know. It's staring at you right in the face, turn left!" 

 Kissinger spun to face me…us. There was something unnerving about the way he gazed into our eyes, but I could not seem to figure out what it was. He did not even smile. He turned back to Nixon. 

 "Your dogs?" There was a slight, deep chuckle "Mr President…I really do not have time for games. We are meant to be working on the foreign diplomacy-"

 Nixon dismissed him with a wave of his hand "Screw all that foreign diplomacy stuff. This is far more important. Ten…twenty years down the track, people won't even care about that stuff anymore. What they will care about is kicking dirt on my grave. Trying to tarnish my name. That's all those hippies seem to care about." He beamed at my companions and then me in turn. " _Records_ , Henry. Once I'm out of office, rotting in my grave, people are going to be disgracing my memory and getting their hands on every bit of evidence that makes me look bad. But these dogs are no doubt going to the grave with me. All those secrets are going to be recorded by them. And there's only one way to get them out."

 The other man nodded understandably, but his expression still looked unimpressed. "Mr President…that is a good idea, but how can you possibly get hold of the information for yourself, for your memoirs and so on?"

 Nixon grinned boyishly once more. "That will come next week. Don't you worry. Only you and I could ever know the truth." He was walking closer to Kissinger. The German's hand had clasped onto his arm and the president flinched slightly. "Are you sure?" He asked in paranoia "What if we get…you know…er…caught?"

 Kissinger leaned up to plant a kiss on Nixon's lips "Come now, Richard…only the dogs know. You're a genius with this idea…truly you are." 

 What was going on between these two men was certainly something I was not used to seeing between grown men. I heard the sound of something being unbuckled, and then later on a coat had fallen onto the floor. There were sounds as if these men had been running for many miles, yet I did not think I had wanted to know exactly what had really caused these sounds. Quickly, I raced underneath one of the chairs, with Vicky and Pasha chasing after me.

 I could smell the scent of another human coming. What would happen indeed if they had gotten caught?  They would have gone on for a while, had not Pasha howled in protest. I had wished that my companion had kept silent. It might have been amusing to see Nixon try to come up with an excuse. 

 "Damn it!" Nixon growled, before hurriedly dressing himself up again. Kissinger had reached for his spectacles and smoothed out his clothes just to the same state that they were before. "Why must these things happen?" Kissinger chuckled slightly at the other man's nervousness, but luckily both were seated and fully clothed when the other person had reached the door. 

 A youngish man with closely cropped hair stepped inside. 

 "Haldeman." Nixon addressed in his direction. 

 "Mr President…what is it that you need me for?" the other man asked. 

 "I need you to go to the vet next week to pick up a very important package." It was clear that he was referring to whatever godforsaken apparatus the veterinarian had requested Nixon to use. "No questions asked. I've already paid for it in full. It's five thousand dollars and you better take very good care of it and make sure that nobody asks you about it or tries to take it away. Is that understood?"

 "Certainly, Mr President." Haldeman obediently replied. 

 Yet Kissinger looked dismayed. 

 "Mr President…do you really think it is wise to spend so much money on something from the vet? I know you love your dogs, but that is a lot of money to spend for treats."

 Nixon scoffed "It's not a treat. It's what I was telling you about…Oh I'll tell you later when we receive the package." 

 Kissinger crossed his arms and even though he looked calm, some anger sparked behind those large glasses. Nixon shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, unsure as to how to respond. Haldeman, in his usual obedient way, did not ask any more questions and left the two men in peace. 

 After the door shut, Kissinger glared at the president.

 "Five thousand dollars?"  He inquired in a furious whisper "Please tell me that this is from your own pocket."

 The president spun around to glare back, leaning close so that nobody else could hear, although we still could hear them well under the chair.

 "And if it isn't? Come on, Henry. This is very important."

 "But these are the funds that we could be using for foreign affairs! What will the press say when this information leaks? It will be very harmful to your credibility. I suggest you to go to the veterinarian and get a refund right away. Spending government money on something for your dogs is incredibly selfish."

 "Selfish?" Nixon blinked "Selfish?! Henry, I'll have you know that I spent a great deal of money and time in bringing back the troops from Vietnam. If anyone is selfish it is the American people! Those hippies who prolonged the war! This money I am spending is for my credibility and me because the damn public don't care and I am doing everything I can to save myself. Because I’m the only person who seems to care about this!"

 Kissinger looked hurt. "I care." He said firmly "Why do you say these ridiculous things?" 

 Nixon by then did not want to hear anymore. He had turned away, hiding his face in his hands like the way I've seen Vicky do a few times. "Get out." He muttered. "Now!" 

 "You are being very silly." Kissinger sighed "Just be reasonable, for once in your life! I am trying to save you." His hand was on the doorknob and he knew that he should leave the room, but his eyes were still on the president. "I can't let you commit a mistake just to protect your reputation. All these things will catch up with you in the end." 

 There was no response. Kissinger threw his hands in the air in hopelessness and finally let him alone. 

 Then, after a few minutes Nixon picked up the phone. 

 "Haldeman. Don't worry about picking up that package. I've changed my mind."

 

 The next week, Nixon was very quiet. But he did not seem to be angry. In fact, perhaps he was grateful for not spending all that money after all. Humans are very strange creatures. Even though he had walked me quite often, he rarely ever made sense. But on one afternoon, it seemed like he had wanted to speak to me. 

 "God damn it, why doesn't anyone care about me?" Nixon grumbled under his breath. "At least I know you wouldn't leave my side, King Timahoe."

 Actually, with the way he was tugging onto that leash, it was very difficult for me to leave him at all. 

 "I guess Kissinger was right. But now I have no way of writing my memoirs. Maybe I will have to stick with the tapes. What do you think?"

 I was about to agree, but of course there was no way for him to understand me. 

 Nixon laughed at my bark. "Well if I _did_ pick up the package, maybe then I would understand what you're yapping on about. Jesus Christ…why am I talking to a dog anyway?" Embarrassed, he stopped speaking to me. Hopefully this did not mean that this was going to tempt him to purchase that odd product. 

 Once we had made it back home, Nixon removed my leash and then turned to face me. 

 "Now you stay outside, King Timahoe. I have very important business to attend to. Vicky and Pasha are out in the garden somewhere. Don't come inside unless I call you. Got it?" And with that, he slammed the door on me rudely. 

 I was reunited with the other two. Pasha was busy gnawing on a chew toy while Vicky was staring at the White House in dismay. 

 "What is the matter?" I asked. 

 "That stupid president locked us out. And I was hungry too." Vicky whined. Then suddenly, she turned to me eagerly as an idea crossed her mind "Actually, can you go inside and get us some snacks? He seems to like you best."

 "I can't go in there." I barked, "He told me to stay out here. He sounds like he was busy with something."

 "Busy with that Jew-boy, probably." Vicky scoffed. Pasha was grinning with amusement, "Do you honestly think that he does work in that office of his?" 

 Now that I thought of it, I barely ever saw him at work, especially not with that other man in the room. But it was none of my business anyway. He trusted me, after all. 

 "I am not going in there." I said dismissively "And that is final." 

"Please?" Vicky pleaded "Just pretend like you did not understand him."

 "Nixon was there when we were injected with that serum. It is hard to play dumb."

 "But..does anybody else know?" Vicky asked. 

 I figured that perhaps Kissinger knew. It was possible that Haldeman might have some idea, only he never told him about the package. "Well…no." I sighed in realisation. 

 "Then whoever answers the door won't know then. Maybe it's one of his daughters or something."

 Suddenly, as if someone had listened to our worries, a car pulled up. A girl with dark hair, Julie, came out of the car. I rushed towards her, telling her to let me in the house. But she merely heard barks. She gave me a few strokes on the back and tickled behind my ears. "King Timahoe! So happy to see you. Why are you out here?"

 "Enough with the questions and let me in!" I shouted in a series of barks. I turned towards the door, as if to give her a clue. Oddly enough she understood. 

 "Oh you must be hungry. Well come on, I'll fix you and the others some treats." She whistled, causing Vicky and Pasha to run towards her. Then, we were all inside. 

 Julie was just about to go to the kitchen when the phone rang in the room next door. She ran off, too excited to remember to give us lunch. I assume that it must have been that young man that she had been seeing. 

 Pasha had somehow detected the scent of one of the treats and was racing towards Nixon's office. Vicky and I had to chase after her. 

 "No!" I barked, "We're not allowed in here." 

 But neither of my companions listened to me. With a forceful push of the paws, the door opened. Nothing had prepared me for the sight that I had seen. 

 The president was on all fours like a dog, and I regret to say, wearing nothing but a collar and a leash that Kissinger was tugging with one hand. In the other, he held a Polaroid camera and was taking photos. Fortunately, on his face was a mask, merely a caricature of his face so we did not have to see Nixon completely in the flesh. The sight, however, was still mentally scarring. 

 The mask turned up to glare at us. Oddly enough, there were even sweat drops on that too. "What the hell are you doing here?!" Nixon barked in paranoia "Get out! Get out!" 

 Even if he had not yelled at us, we were very glad to leave the room. I do hope that I would never see anything like that again. I do wonder now, whether or not Pat would have known about this indecent affair. But I still shudder even to remember it. 

 After a few hours, we were allowed back in the room. Nixon thankfully fully clothed, but he was glaring at each of us, especially me. 

 "No more treats for you, King Timahoe. Or to any of your buddies." he scolded firmly, wagging a finger in my face. I was tempted to bite it, but knew that this would probably make him even ruder to me. 

 Kissinger had returned into the room, beaming and holding a file. "Do not worry, Mr President…it is not as if the dogs will leak the information to the press." Still, Nixon was very reluctant to perform any acts of affection in front of us. Thank goodness for that. 

 "Christ, there are no secrets in the White House! Even if I ask for the doors to be closed, the dogs still know!" Nixon exclaimed in terror. He turned to Kissinger in urgency. "Look, Henry. I know you did not want me to purchase that package, but it's an emergency." 

 "Mr President…"

 "Let me finish!" Nixon interrupted "I _need_ this apparatus. It transcribes everything that the dogs pick up on. I need it before one of the Democrats get it! Hell, we can't even trust anyone here. You know how information has a way of leaking out. You've even seen this happen with Johnson!"

 Suddenly, Kissinger had adopted Nixon's expression of urgency. "Understood, Mr President."

 It was many hours later when I was roused from sleep by a door being barged open. It was dark and Nixon was still seated at his desk. It looked as if he had been dozing, for his hair was in disarray and he was wearing the dark red dressing gown that he often wore in his private quarters. Kissinger was holding the package. 

 "You already got it? Nixon asked sleepily. Kissinger nodded and placed the package on the desk. Nixon did that routine thing again when he ran his fingers against the walls to make sure that they were not being recorded. Oh humans seem to worry about the most ridiculous things. It wasn't as if he was the one who was going to try out whatever unusual contraption was inside the package. 

 Gingerly, Nixon began to open the package. Kissinger stood behind him, his eyes wide in curiosity. 

 Inside there was a small screen of some sort. Two wires connected to it and on the ends were metal pegs. Nixon frowned as he examined the odd device. He was looking up and around for some potential guinea pigs to try it out. I tried to scurry away, but he spotted me too quickly.

 "Ah, King Timahoe! You can try it." 

 Drat. 

 I growled. 

 "Come on, be a good boy." Nixon urged. He brought the wires towards me. 

 "Mr President…" Kissinger said in uncertainty "Are you sure that you're doing it right? The dog looks terrified. We should look at the manual."

 "I don't give a damn about the manual!" Nixon snapped, "I just want my recordings!" 

 Reluctantly, Kissinger held me tightly while Nixon clipped the wires on. I tried to squirm out of his grasp, but he was much too strong. Nixon's hands hovered over the buttons in confusion until finally when he felt that he was on the right track, pressed the large red one. 

 Suddenly, there was a blinding flash. I felt myself being pulled backwards yet Kissinger's hands were still holding onto me. I braced myself for any sort of strong pain.

 But when I opened my eyes, I realised that the entire operation was painless. Nixon was grinning at the machine. "I think I did it!" He exclaimed in enthusiasm. But there was sweat already glistening on the apparatus. "I must find a safe place for this thing…" He murmured in paranoia. 

 "Mr President…maybe we should leave it with the dogs." Kissinger suggested. 

 Nixon spun around quickly "So they can damage the only records we have?! No. I do not trust these mongrels either. I am going to keep it right here in my desk so nobody takes it away. Otherwise I probably won't even remember where it is!" He gave a slight chuckle and ruffled my fur. "Good boy. Now run off to bed." 

 

 The next few days went by smoothly. There was no more talk about the strange contraption for ages. Perhaps the president had truly forgotten about it. But it didn't bother me. I was free from his rambles when sitting in the White House or when Nixon was taking me on walks. He seemed to be hard at work, scribbling all sorts of things in a yellow notebook. I wonder whether all humans are as obsessed with keeping records as my owner…

 One evening, after much frolicking in the park, I had taken a rest in the Oval Office. Nixon was standing around, dictating something to a man who was sitting at a typewriter. It sounded so boring that I hadn't even bothered to pick up on what he was saying. Instead, I lay directly under one of the chairs, watching the president wave his arms excitedly as he spoke. Without the typist looking, Nixon went over to the desk and opened one of the drawers. But he had instantly turned pale. 

 "Mr Stein." Nixon said, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead "That is enough for today. You may leave now."

 Benjamin Stein, the speechwriter, looked surprised. "But Mr President. We’ve only just started. This speech needs to be delivered tomorrow."

 "I know that!" Nixon retorted "But I need to have a discussion with the National Security Adviser right away. Leave immediately!"

 Quickly, the other man left without another word. Nixon collapsed in his chair, looking more terrified than any dog I had seen during my visits at the veterinary. 

 "It's….it's GONE." Nixon moaned in dismay as soon as Kissinger entered into the room. 

 Kissinger looked almost as worried as the president, yet his voice was a lot calmer. It seemed that the German was better during a crisis than his superior. "What do you mean it is gone?" He asked, "You kept it hidden. Nobody would have found it, surely."

 "Did you leak this information to someone?!" Nixon demanded suddenly, frowning at him "Because if you did-"

 Kissinger placed a hand on Nixon's sleeve, gazing into his eyes with sincerity "You know I would never dream of telling anyone, Mr President." 

 "Well then, someone must be working against us…one of our colleagues. Geez." He scanned the room anxiously "Maybe they are watching us right now."  He pulled out of Kissinger's grasp, searching around for a secret camera. 

 "Mr President, we don't know for certain. Perhaps you misplaced it."

 Nixon shook his head furiously "No. No. I put it there myself. I never lose things!" His fists clenched as Kissinger watched on hopelessly. "My reputation could be at stake! And yours too! We must catch whoever stole this and make them pay! Damn it, Henry. I will not allow someone to steal information from us!"

 The National Security Advisor rested his chin on his fist, thinking carefully as he paced the room slowly. Even though it was clear that both of them would be affected by a possible leak of information, Kissinger had looked far more calm and purposeful. 

 "Think, Richard…who was the last person who came in the room?"

 The crease between his brows deepened. "Hmm..why, Julie was here earlier today but she wouldn't really go through my things…and then there was Haldeman…" Suddenly, he gasped in realisation and turned to Kissinger, eyes wide. 

 "The speechwriter! Henry! Mr Stein was here! That bastard! What do we do?" 

 Kissinger gestured wildly for silence. "If we show that we are onto him, he will get clever. Do not worry, Mr President. We will figure out a way to stop him." 

 Suddenly, the German turned to me and stared directly into my eyes. Behind those dark frames, it seemed as if the man was already thinking of a solution to this matter.

 "We will catch him, won't we King Timahoe?"

 I barked in agreement. 

 

 For the next few days, I was assigned by my owner to keep watch of Mr Stein. Kissinger had attached something to my collar, which was supposed to detect my whereabouts. I wondered whether or not this would be successful for the size of the task I had been assigned. 

 There is an advantage and disadvantage of being a canine: appearing unsuspicious but having to waste my afternoons stalking a speechwriter. Stein did not notice me, however. He merely went about with his duties, typing up speeches and making corrections here and there with the president. Watching him, I had felt like this was a fruitless exercise. Stein had not really done anything suspicious from what I saw. But of course, taking advantage of my canine self, Kissinger sent me to go after the speechwriter one evening after work. 

 It was a slightly chilly evening as I departed the White House. Stein walked on without even looking over his shoulder. I hoped desperately that he was not one of those humans who caught public transport. Whenever I have tried to climb onto a bus, the humans always get so angry with me. 

 Fortunately Stein had his own car. He had walked to the back to place his briefcase in the trunk. But fortunately because of the dark, I was able to jump into the trunk unnoticed. As soon as he closed the lid, I regretted it instantly. It was pitch black inside and when Stein had started the car, I was thrown against the briefcase. It was the most painful experience. 

 Minutes passed as the ride grew more excruciating. There was not enough room for me to stretch my legs and I tried not to let my whimpers be heard too loudly. In that moment, I hated Nixon and Kissinger so much for assigning me on such a task, rather than assigning either of my companions. 

 Finally when I was sure that I could not take the cramped conditions any longer, the car came to a halt. The sound of footsteps approaching grew louder as Stein walked closer to the trunk. But then I realised that Stein also had company. 

 "So you got the money?" I heard Stein ask. 

 "Yes..yes my boy. It's in the trunk. Fifty thousand dollars, just as promised. Check in the black briefcase and you will see." 

 The voice was oddly rather familiar. It was clipped and professional, yet at the same time mocking, as if the speaker was communicating with someone far lower than him. I tried to remember whom it was who had spoken. The memory of this voice was so fresh in my mind that it could not have possibly been that long ago. 

 Footsteps became more distant as Stein or possibly the other man had walked to the other vehicle to collect the briefcase. 

 "And why are you doing this, anyway?" Stein asked after much silence. I heard the trunk being unlocked, yet the briefcase was still on his person, for he was waiting patiently for the other man's answer.

 "Because the president owes me so much. I rewarded him with the latest technology. But you see I did not do this at the bottom of my heart. I hate the man. I just want to see him crumble when all his private conversations get released to the public. Just think of how much money I'd have! Being a vet is such a lousy profession anyway and the government never pays us nearly as much as we deserve. Now it is my chance." 

 Of course! It was that dreaded veterinarian. From the first time I had seen him I had never trusted that man. I knew he was bad news right from the start. But sadly, he was going after my owner. 

 Now it was my time to escape. 

 Pushing my paws against the ceiling of the trunk, I was able to leap out. I saw Stein standing there, watching me in surprise as he clutched onto that trunk possessively. 

 Even though the other figure was not wearing the white coat that I had seen him wear many times before, I could recognise that disgusting veterinarian who had treated us so cruelly when we were under his care. Finally out of the trunk, I had the opportunity to give him what he had deserved. 

 I pushed my paws against him, as hard as I could, yelling insults at his face as he watched in horror. All that would be heard were just barks, but somehow it felt like he had known what I was thinking. 

 "Get that thing off me!" The veterinarian cried, pushing me away. Stein looked on, unable to respond at the odd sight. 

 As his hand grabbed me and tried to shove me away, I had seized his hand between my jaws, biting him as hard as I could. He gave a cry and I let him go, watching him curse furiously. Small droplets of blood oozed from the indents I had left on his hand. 

 "You bad dog! I remember you! You were one of the miserable mongrels I had injected that expensive serum into. And this is how you pay me? Well you're too late. I'm going to end your dear owner's career and you won't be able to do a single thing about it." Just before he was about to scramble away to the car, I had latched onto his trouser leg, pulling him back with as much strength as I could. The veterinarian was slapping at my back, trying to get me to let go. But there was no way that I was ever going to do that. No. I was going to keep him until Nixon and Kissinger arrived. No matter how long it would take. 

 Just as I had expected, another car had pulled up. Both the president and the National Security Advisor had climbed out, rushing towards the whole commotion. 

 "Down boy!" Nixon growled at me. I obediently let him go. 

 The other man was just about to flee, when Kissinger had grabbed his arm. 

 "Not so fast!" Nixon warned. "Boy, I am so glad I finally caught up with all of this." He paused briefly to wipe his forehead before interrogating Stein "Now I want to know why the hell you went behind my back to give away confidential information…" He then turned to the veterinarian "And why you are so god damn desperate to get the information that you ended up giving my colleague hush money for it. Well? Answer me! I'm the president of the United States and I demand a proper explanation to all of this." 

 Quickly, Nixon snatched the briefcase off Stein and opened it without much ado. His eyes widened as he saw the money. 

 "Why is there so much?" Nixon gasped, "Why, this is even more than that damn device you stole from me!" 

 "I am sorry, Mr President…" Stein apologised, hanging his head. "I just needed the money. Mr Jones over here found out that I was working for you and was asking all sorts of questions. He promised that he would pay me provided that I gave back the device that he had spent so long to make for you-"

 "Do you expect me to waste my efforts and all of my experiments just for it all to be kept in secret?" Jones interrupted, glowering at the president "You and your government already robbed me from a fair pay, not to mention many other workers. I made something that would change the world."

 Nixon's jaw dropped in disbelief "But I paid you!" He exclaimed, "Just as you asked me to! What more do you want?!" 

 The veterinarian chuckled to himself "Well, at first I thought it was a decent amount. But really, do you think a veterinarian like myself would be content with a small sum? It wasn't fair, Mr President. You of all people should know about providing what is fair for the people." He grinned darkly "But I guess you are just like all the other politicians…no, you are even worse! If I couldn't get the money I want, why not expose you for the crook you are? Because, Mr President, that is all you deserve." 

 Reaching into his coat pocket, Jones produced a familiar device. It was the same apparatus that Nixon had used on me. "What will it be, Mr President? Your reputation, or your money?"

 

 "Actually, Mr Jones…you may have a reputation that needs to be taken care of as well." 

 Both Jones and Nixon had jolted to the abrupt addition to the conversation. Still clasping onto Jones's arm tightly, Kissinger stepped out from the shadows, his now illuminated features filled with so much purpose and determination. The streetlights reflected off his glasses, giving him two blurred, sinister orange orbs for eyes. He leaned closer to the veterinarian, waiting for the other man to reply. 

 "What are you saying?" Jones laughed nervously "I have no reputation that needs protecting! I am merely a veterinarian…it is Nixon who will take a far higher fall than me." 

 "Is that so?" Kissinger asked, although his tone did not even indicate the slightest surprise "So even if the authorities were to find out about your treatment of animals, you wouldn't be worried for your reputation? What will all of your clients say when they discover that their veterinarian is really just interested in making a profit than taking care of their pets properly?" 

 A few beads of sweat were glistening above the veterinarian's lips. His eyes were darting backwards and forwards as if an animal cornered by a predator. "I…" Jones began, trying to regain his composure. But it all ended it in a nervous gulp. "You have no proof of that." He said quickly. 

 Suddenly, the National Security Advisor had reached into his coat pocket and produced a file. Nobody had expected the man to have evidence on his person. 

 "What is that?" Jones asked in suspicion.

 "This, is a file with all of the evidence of you when you were practicing back in Kansas. In addition, there is a long list of all those clients who had complained of your harsh and unethical treatment of their pets. You may have moved and changed your name, but you cannot change what you still doing… _Max Vermont_." 

 Vermont tried to snatch at the file but the shorter man held it up higher. 

 "You don't believe this nonsense, do you?" He asked both Stein and Nixon "This man has totally fabricated my history. I have always been Jones! And even if I _did_ change my name, that's not a crime!" He focussed his gaze on Nixon "Don't you see? Your own colleague is trying to trick you! If he can produce files about anyone, who knows what he could do to you." 

 Even though his voice sounded furious, he still had that stupid smile on his face that I had seen in the veterinary as if he was telling a joke. I growled and he backed away slightly. 

 "You don't know a thing." He snarled at me "You may know what I am saying but you can't do anything about it."

 That was it. I had lost my temper at this point. I quickly leapt onto the man, catching him unawares, barking directly into his face and baring my teeth. Pressed against the ground and struggling to get away from me, Vermont had looked so helpless. Even though he had fallen onto the ground suddenly, his grip around the device was firm.

 "Get away from me you mongrel! Scram!" He was about to beat me with his hand but Nixon grabbed it quickly, glaring into his eyes directly. 

 "You may torment and mock me all you want…" Nixon began, his voice dark and menacing "But you leave my family members out of it. Get your hands off my dog." 

 Vermont was trembling. Kissinger walked towards his squirming form, still clutching onto the file. 

 "The president is right. If you know what is good for you, you keep your hands off his dog. And off all the other animals that you have been torturing. Or we _will_ get you."

 "Then I'll expose everything about the president and your incompetent staff!" Vermont spat, still trying to shake me off his chest.

 Nixon had looked horrified, but Kissinger's expression was still so serene. I knew then that we had truly caught him for sure. 

 "Go on, tell the press. Nobody will believe the word of a lousy vet who is trying to cause trouble for the president." Kissinger dared. Somehow that foreign accent of his had made the man quiver more in fear. I had never seen someone who was so used to tormenting others look so helpless. But despite how eager Kissinger was for the man to expose Nixon, it did not seem like Vermont was willing to go forth with his own plan any time soon. 

 "Let me go!" Vermont demanded after some silent deliberation "I won't say a word of this!" With some difficulty, he threw the device. It landed only a few inches away from Nixon’s feet. "Take it! Take it and get away from me!"

 Slowly, the fear in Nixon's face had subsided. In place there was a smile, the same sort of smile I had seen on his face many times whenever he had won an election or a debate. 

 Our dealing with Vermont was victorious. We had won. 

 

 Back in the White House, Nixon made sure to keep the device well hidden and taped behind a large picture frame. He had looked so grateful to see Kissinger but only really felt safer once he had closed the door and was sure that nobody else was watching. The president walked closer to the shorter Jew. 

 "You were fantastic." Nixon said in awe "I…I don't know how you found him. I owe you so much." 

 Kissinger gave a small smile as he turned to face Nixon. A hand lay on his shoulder "Really, Mr President…you know I would do anything for you. There is no way of knowing how much damage that man could have done to your reputation, but now he is completely harmless."

 Nixon pulled Kissinger towards him, tugging his shoulders gently and peering deep into his eyes. "I don't know what I would be able to do without you, my Jew-boy." He had shifted so close that their noses were touching and they were about to kiss. 

 But as soon as Nixon remembered my presence, he spun around and glared. The look he was giving me was more like disapproval for me messing up his papers. But I already knew him well enough to know that he was really just worried about something else.

 "We better take this to the other room." Nixon said to Kissinger, although he was still staring at me as if I were interrupting something. With a hand still on his shoulder, he pushed him away from me and they walked towards the side of the room. In the dark light I could only see a faint outline of what looked like a door. A secret room. I had never even noticed it until Nixon had opened it. Before he closed the door and they disappeared from prying eyes, I heard him murmur something fearfully to his companion. Ah, yes. Even after being saved, our owner was still the same paranoid man.

 

"With such a dog and this recording apparatus, there seems to be no secrets in the White House!" 

 

 


End file.
